


Letting off Steam

by nukabrola



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: "masculine" terms for genitalia, Bi Disaster, Bisexual Male Character, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Stress Relief, Trans Male Character, completely self indulgent, intentionally somewhat comedic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 12:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17643035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nukabrola/pseuds/nukabrola
Summary: Speaking of the independent type, he thinks, turning on his side, that Ada Wong sure knows what she’s doing. Even if she was very selective with her information, Leon felt leagues more comfortable whenever she was around. Something about her made every situation that much more manageable - her competence, sure, but also that raw confidence that she carried with her. Man, interjects a little voice in the back of his head, would she give him the strap.





	Letting off Steam

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely unedited so please excuse any mistakes
> 
> if you've got a good fic idea, send the prompt here: https://curiouscat.me/nukabrola !!!

The door slams shut, Leon’s back quickly bracing against it, gun pointed up towards the ceiling as he listens for the shrieks of those...creatures. As the noises dissipate off into the distance, he lets out a sigh of relief, sending a bit of thanks to whatever god might have listening. Not that there was one, considering the state of the city and his own  _ multiple _ brushes with death in the past few hours. 

 

Blowing his bangs out of his face with a huff, he starts to take in his surroundings. The room itself doesn’t seem to be in too much disarray, most of it rather mundane - a table in the middle of the room, some lockers. He catches the porcelain corner of a sink peeking through the doorway of the connected room and shuffles over, unable to believe his luck when the room is equipped with  _ beds _ , too. Briefly, he thinks about retracting his internal quip about god - quickly forgotten in favor of grimacing at his reflection. 

 

He has to take a deep breath to keep the nausea down, quickly turning the tap and scrubbing off all the blood and gore on his face. Knowing it was there and  _ seeing _ it there were two different animals, one of which he wasn’t prepared for. Some of it was even in his bangs, the ends of his hair stiff with the stuff. Reaching for a towel, he sets to work, removing all the accumulated grime. He was far from out of the woods, sure, but he felt a little bit more human with every swirl of dirt going down the drain. 

 

Face clean, he fiddles with the straps on his vest. The clothes are going to be dirty no matter what, he knows, but shucks the kevlar off anyway. His shirt goes next, revealing bruises blooming on his skin and small nicks across his abdomen. Grabbing another towel, he cleans this too, disinfecting and bandaging what he can. Feeling much cleaner and infinitely more human, Leon makes his way over to the beds/

 

They’ve definitely seen better days, judging by the chipping paint on the railing, but the frame doesn’t rattle when Leon practically falls into the bottom bunk. He groans as he sinks into the mattress, stretching out on his back, arms reaching above his head before coming to lay on his chest. Fingers absently rubbing the scars on his chest, his thoughts drift back to the day’s events - making him grimace as every death and brutality played back at him. 

 

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he gives a frustrated little noise, forcing himself to focus on the  _ positive _ . Sure, this was hell on Earth - but at least he got to meet Claire, even briefly. God, was she pretty. Smart, too. Maybe after all this was over he could try to ask her out...and if she wasn’t interested, she mentioned having a brother who, if he was half as good looking, might be a good alternative. He was glad he didn’t have to worry about her, being the independent type that she was.

 

Speaking of the independent type, he thinks, turning on his side, that Ada Wong sure knows what she’s doing. Even if she was very selective with her information, Leon felt leagues more comfortable whenever she was around. Something about her made every situation that much more manageable - her competence, sure, but also that raw  _ confidence _ that she carried with her.  _ Man _ , interjects a little voice in the back of his head,  _ would she give him the  _ **_strap_ ** _.  _

 

Spluttering internally at his own thought process, Leon turns over onto his back again, embarrassed at entertaining the fantasy. He exhales sharply out the nostrils when his dick perks up at the images running through his mind - Ada, her hands on his waist, her hips rolling into his. Ada pushing deep into him, calling him  _ pretty boy  _ and stroking his bangs out of his face. Ada rubbing his dick while she works him over, teasing him when he goes over the edge far too quickly. Ada, Ada, Ada.

 

He catches himself a little too late, palm grinding on his crotch. The seam of his jeans digs into him a little  _ too _ well, working in tandem with his hand and idiot monkey brain to send him off into the land of bad decisions. Fantasizing over someone you just met is probably really, really wrong - especially in the midst of a apocalyptic outbreak - but Leon is so pent up that it’s hard for him to care. 

 

He has enough of a mind to kick off his jeans and boxers before he gets them messy, considering he’s already pretty wet. He runs a couple of fingers over his slit, and, yeah - pretty wet. It eases the way as he takes his cock between his fingers, the soft pressure enough to make him hiss. Leon gives a few slow tugs, revelling in the way it sparks warmth in his gut. His legs can’t quite stay still, either, restless until he plants his feet on the mattress. Even then, his toes curl with every tug, lifting up in the air when he presses circles around the base of his cock. 

 

He’s thinking about what kind of dick Ada would use - how thick would it be? How long? His grinds his palm back down on his hardness at the thought of  _ ridges _ , hips twitching forward as he groans. 

 

Out of nowhere, his thoughts shift towards a more masculine figure. The guy would tower over him, spread his legs for him. He has to bite his lip at the image to keep from moaning too loudly, thighs tensing at the idea of this guy’s cock grinding against his own. Leon’s fantasy figure teases his hole a couple of times with the head of his dick, gathering slick to grind against him with. The idea of it is nearly enough to drive Leon crazy, heat pooling in his navel. 

 

He imagines a big hand coming to close halfway around his neck - just enough pressure to restrict his airflow, not cut it off. Leon’s free hand slides down to his slit, gently massaging at his hole, drawing a needy little noise out of him. 

 

In his mind’s eye, the anonymous figure manifests into the brute that’s been chasing him around all night. It catches Leon off guard, fingers stuttering in their rhythm - but the heat remains.  _ Fuck _ , he thinks, unable to do anything but whine and rub himself harder,  _ I must really be losing it _ . With a shaking hand, he gently presses his middle finger into himself, taking a deep breath. He imagines it’s Tyrant’s, impatiently sliding his index finger in alongside his middle when the size difference throws off the realism. 

 

He thinks about Tyrant’s finger pressing into him, stroking at his deepest parts. Curling his own fingers alongside his fantasy, he imagines the big lug holding him by his throat - keeping him pinned in place. With a slightly hysterical exhale, Leon rocks further onto his fingers, other hand frantically tugging and grinding on his dick. 

 

“Oh,  _ shit _ ,” he breathes, squeezing down on his fingers as he spills over the edge, legs lifting into the air slightly as he works himself through his orgasm. 

 

It takes him a minute to come down from the high, sighing as he slides his fingers out of himself. The embarrassment floods him almost immediately post-endorphin rush; without thinking, he covers his face with his hands and groans into them. 

 

“Aw, ew,” He grumbles, getting up on shaky legs to go wash himself in the sink,  _ again _ , “Come  _ on _ , Leon.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you've got a good fic idea, send the prompt here: https://curiouscat.me/nukabrola !!!


End file.
